Memories flashed across my mind: the battles we had fought, the times we had saved each other. Our friendship and love, betrayal and enmity, transforming into something new altogether—stronger and more precious by far. I had not believed he could change, I had not wanted to. Only in the terrible moment of his death did it dawn upon me that he was the one who could make me whole, even as he had been the one to tear me apart. For when he had broken me with his treachery, he had broken himself too. Despite my coldness in pushing him away, my indifference and resentment, he had fought relentlessly for us, trying to prove the depth of his emotions, his sincerity and love … a selfless love that I never imagined he was capable of.

A large manor rose ahead, white walls holding up an arched roof of moss-green tiles, aglitter in the rays of the sun. Pine trees swayed as they towered over the walls, strings of white lanterns dangling beside the lacquered door, swaying in the gentle breeze. A horse pranced outside, its reins gripped by a young man as its hooves pawed the ground impatiently.

He was here; I could sense him, just as I had in his kingdom. Mortal or immortal, I would know him anywhere. Stumbling to a halt, I brushed down my lilac robe, adjusting the crimson sash around my waist. Chrysanthemums were embroidered in soft pinks upon the silk, the flowers of the season. Despite my impatience, vanity had roused me to change. I had missed the pleasure of a fine gown, this desire to flatter my appearance. An urge gripped me, to stride to the door and knock—but I would be a stranger to him. A discourteous one, arriving at this hour, without invitation or good cause.

The door swung open as a tall man stepped out, his black hair pulled into a smooth topknot. His robes were of fine indigo brocade, fastened around his waist with a silk sash. Rooted to the spot, I drank in the sight of him: his sculpted cheekbones, thin lips, his clear eyes ringed with gray. A rare shade for the mortals to possess, one that had haunted my dreams during those long restless nights. There were slight differences in his features and form. One less used to battle though still strong; taller, with a more scholarly air. Yet his keen intelligence shone in his gaze, and he moved with that same effortless grace.

It was him, as surely as I knew my own name. Such aching joy swept through me, surging through my veins, ablaze with the light of the heavens. A smile broke over my face. I wanted to laugh from the exhilaration crashing over me that this was no dream. He was alive.